Tempted Angels
by patiencewriter
Summary: Ali Stoner is trying to be a "good girl" since she left her slut status behind when she moved, but some things are just too tempting. Which South Park boy will she REALLY fall for? Some KennyxOC and maybe some future StanxOC, StanxKyle, and CraigxOC. Rated M for future content.
1. Chapter 1

_**AN: This is just a random fanfic I wrote a little while back... I might end up scrapping the rest...**  
_

_**I do not own any South Park characters.**_

_"Kenny!"_

The shriek was so harsh, so pained; I couldn't believe it was my own. It felt just as unreal as the dark stains on his orange parka, as unreal as the deep red spill spreading from him. My knees hit the hard ground and quickly cooling droplets slid down my cheeks. Stan's gloved hand folded over my thin shoulder, but it did nothing to stop the tears—nor did Cartman's murmured, "He dies all the time."

"Ali. Ali, look at me," Kyle said, taking my face in his hands. My eyes were forced to meet his brilliant green ones. "Ali," he continued, "He'll be fine. Trust us. We don't know why, but he always comes back." I tore myself from Kyle's eyes to look back at Kenny, still lying in the road. The blood had ceased to flow—he was dead. My feet found the frozen Colorado ground and I propelled myself onto the black asphalt. My thin fingers dipped around the fur-lined hood, cradling his lifeless body to me.

They let me sit like that for a while. Finally, Kyle's green-gloved hands and Cartman's chubby hands eased Kenny's body from me, and Stan wrapped one arm around my shoulders. I threw my arms around him and buried my face against his warm neck. His lips brushed my temple as he whispered, "Don't worry, he _will_ come back." He pulled me to my feet and guided me out of the road. I could feel their worry—it permeated everything around them. Then again, knowing my own history, I couldn't blame them. My eyes closed involuntarily as my mind retracted into its darkest corner—the one where I could see just how damaged I was. The tiny blade I kept with me felt heavy in my pocket, and the thin red lines that overwhelmed my shoulders and arms seemed to burn.

I turned myself so I could face Kyle before inquiring, "When will he be back?" Those bright green eyes searched my face, looking for the impending breakdown that was lurking. "A few days," he replied after a while, never breaking eye contact with me.

Sunlight streamed through the bare branches of South Park's woods, shining through my eyelids. I shivered, huddling down farther into my parka. I hated the way the cold breeze nipped at my nose, but I didn't have a home to go to. Not that I'd tell the boys that. We were still waiting for Kenny—or I was, at least. Pushing myself to my feet, I began my usual morning jog to the local truck stop to shower. That's when I realized how true the strange reality of Kenny's immortality was. I watched the door of his ratty trailer creak open and he ducked out, orange parka and all.

_"Kenny!"_ I cried for the second time in three days. I slapped my hand over my mouth as he turned. My legs ran before I realized what was really going on and I crashed into him, tears sliding from my eyes. "Ali! Ohmygod, Ali it's really you," he said, wrapping his arms around me, crushing me to him as we lay on the ground. I buried my face in the fur of his hood, wrapping cool fingers around the back of his neck.

I kissed his neck and whispered, "I didn't think it was true…the whole 'he dies all the time, he'll come back' thing. I…_how?_" He shushed me, murmuring, "I don't really know either. I just wake up in my bed after a few days." I pulled my face from his neck, looking up into his gemstone-blue eyes. "Oh," I breathed, letting my fingers trail up to toy with the errant blonde strands over his eyes. He grabbed my hand and nodded, leaning up to kiss me. I met him halfway, pushing his hands to the ground with mine.

The kisses deepened, and I swung my leg over his waist. He grabbed my hips and levered me over him, one knee on each side. My hands fumbled with the zipper of my parka, only stopping when I remembered that we were outside in the middle of a Colorado winter—and I had been on my way to shower when I saw him. Kenny's eyebrows twitched down when I paused, silently asking, "What? Did I do something?"

Smiling, I shook my head and answered, "I was on my way to TruckCo to shower… I should probably go do that before…you know." I looked down at my bright pink, half-unzipped parka. He laughed, rolling me over and pulling me up as he stood. "C'mon, you can shower at my place." He dorkishly bowed slightly as he opened his trailer door and ushered me in. Inside the rusted tin outside, Kenny's home was pretty good-looking—off-white walls, plush carpet, old pictures of him and the others on the walls. I stopped in front of one, from when they were in fourth grade. Grinning, I turned to him, taunting, "You really used to keep your hood that tight?"

"Of course. That was what everyone knew me as. Other than the kid who always died," he replied, stripping off his parka to reveal a white wife beater. My eyes locked with his, and I couldn't make myself move as he walked closer to me, his slimly muscled arms reaching out to unzip my parka. I let it slide off my shoulders and to the floor, leaving me in a blue-and-aqua bra and my light-colored jeans. He raised his eyebrow briefly, a smirk twisting his mouth up. "That was a little too easy, especially for you. Not that I'm complaining about the view," he said, his eyes flitting from my face down. Then Kenny saw my arms. His smirk dropped, and he added, "When did you start doing that again? Is everything okay? Are _you_ okay?" I nodded, then replied, "Yeah, everything's fine. I just…I didn't know if you were really going to come back or if they were just trying to keep me from breaking down."

He nodded, taking my hand and towing me down the hall to the first of two doors—the bathroom. He wrapped his arms around me, asking, "Need anything? Clothes? There's towels and my mom's old shower stuff under the sink. Unless you don't want to use her stuff, then I can find som—"

"Don't worry, you dweeb!" I said, stretching to kiss him again. His hands toyed briefly with my back before he let go and gave me a tiny shove towards the open doorway. I stepped into the tiny, neat bathroom, realizing my bra had been unclipped. My eyes narrowed, and I playfully said "you bastard" before closing the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Clothed in a massive towel that wrapped around me at least three times, I tip-toed from the bathroom, clutching my canvas bag to my chest. "Kenny?" I called, following the sound of music to the other door. Through the crack in the door, Hollywood Undead flowed. I knocked, which pushed the door open enough to see him sprawled across this red-blotched comforter. My eyes searched for breathing as I inquired again, "Kenny?" He opened those beautiful blue eyes and propped himself on one elbow. "Yeah?" he asked sleepily, eyeing me in a way that made my pale cheeks flush. My eyes tugged themselves down to the floor as I murmured, "Um, could I borrow a shirt or something?"

He smirked in his so-damn-sexy way, jumping to the battered old dresser. Before I knew it, he was in front of me, slipping the canvas bag from my hands, tugging the towel loose, sliding his shirt over my head. I glanced down at the shirt—a black Kottonmouth Kings shirt. "How sweet, now I know you'll undress me _and_ redress me," I said, sneering slightly. His hands were on my thighs, toying with the edge of the shirt. I put my hands on his chest, pushing him towards the bed. "Do me a favor, Kenny. Tell me why the comforter looks like that," I nodded to the numerous reddish-brown blotches. He shrugged and replied, "It's from all the time's I've—you know—died and come back."

I nodded again, this time in understanding. My fingers slid under his tank top, pushing it up and off. My lips brushed his neck as he pulled me onto the bed with him. The next few hours made me glad I'd taken a shower. I don't think I could've made myself lie there with him, do those things, knowing I hadn't showered yet. Dimly I heard Kyle's voice calling for Kenny and I vaguely wondered how long they'd been at the door—and if they'd heard us. "Mmm…Kenny, they're here for you," I murmured, trailing my hand down his bare chest. Tattoos played across his right side, grim and deadly. The most noticeable was the large target tattooed over his heart—it had scars under it from all the times things killed him that way. "I know. Wonder how long they've been there," he mutters, pulling on his boxers and orange cargo pants. Turning at the door, he added, "You might want to get dressed. You know they'll just barge in here in a bit."

As soon as the door clicked shut I hurriedly dressed in my only other bra—a red one with black skull-and-crossbones on it—and a matching pair of panties. I'd barely pulled my jeans on when the door creaked open a bit and Stan's head popped in. "Jesus, Stan! Close the door!" I cried, pretending to be embarrassed. Embarrassment just isn't in my arsenal of emotions, though, and he knows it. "Oh, come on, Ali! It's not like I haven't seen you like this before," he retorts, pulling the door closed behind him. No, I'm not a whore. I just happened to have one of those lovely life-threatening accidents a while back that ended in Kenny dead—though I was out long enough that I never knew—and me stitched up. I paused, running my fingers over the scar that stretched from one collarbone to the other and over my shoulder. Dully, I tugged Kenny's Kottonmouth Kings shirt on and whipped the door open.

"Hel-_lo_, boys," I said, smirking at Cartman and Kyle, who were gaping at Stan. I could tell by the look in their eyes that he'd been telling them how he'd found me when he opened the door. I winked at Kenny, who was fighting his way out of a bone-crushing hug that Butters was giving him. Ah, Butters. That was one special kiddo. He turned to me, skirts—_yes, skirts_—rustling gently. Butters looked a lot like Kenny, only…girlier. Same bright blue eyes, same gold hair. He squealed, throwing his arms around me. "Where have you been?" he cried, acting as if I'd been missing for months rather than days. I couldn't take looking at them while Kenny was gone—it was the way they all acted like nothing had happened.

I hugged him back eagerly, replying with, "I'm sorry, I was visiting some family." I hated lying to him, with his huge, childlike eyes, but I couldn't tell him I'd been hiding in the woods, cutting myself open and wondering if Kenny would really come back.

Kenny's warm arm enveloped my waist as soon as Butters freed me to join the others on Kenny's couch. I heard the sound of his X-Box starting up as he kissed me. My hands fished in his pockets, just like he knew they would. I felt his lips twist into a smile as I found the crumpled bills he'd swiped from—most likely—Kyle and Butters. Some habits never die. Since he died so often, Kenny had never really been able to get a real job—too hazardous. So he'd learned to be one of the best pickpockets in South Park. It was part of what made me fall for him.

"Yo, Kenny! You gonna play Zombies with us?" Cartman's voice broke the pickpocket-love moment. "Ah my god! You've got cheesy poofs!"

Call of Duty was one of those games I was never coordinated enough to play. It must be a guy thing, because they all rock at it—even Butters. Kenny was kicking Cartman's ass and, Cartman being the foul-mouth he is, yelled, "You fucking slut!" It didn't help that both me and Kenny looked at him. Yeah, where I was before I moved to South Park, I was considered a slut. I've been good here, though. I mean, I've only slept with Kenny and given head to Kyle and Stan. Not that Cartman knows that, though. That's why Kyle and Stan look at me so hopefully. I mean, I'm not technically exclusively Kenny's, so I _could_, I guess. Feeling Stan's eyes on me as he involuntarily glanced at Kenny—as he always does when Cartman brings up Kenny's not-so-innocent past—I flushed slightly. Sitting beside me, he slid his hand over my knee and onto my thigh. I should have stopped him, I know, but I let his hand sit there. Then I let it move up farther, closer to my crotch, where it came to a rest.

I flicked my eyes to him, then to Kenny, trying to tell him to lay off the major "I'm horny" signals. Kenny had gone back to kicking Cartman's ass, and from the smirk Stan gave me, he knew Kenny was far gone from this reality for now. I knew it, too—that's why I'd let him go that far. If it wasn't that we all knew I wasn't actually Kenny's _girlfriend_, I probably would've flipped on him for keeping his hand there. Nothing was really _wrong_ with it. I mean, I'm technically a free agent.

Cocking one brow up, I slid my palm onto his knee. I didn't feel like fucking around with him, though, so I just patted his knee innocently and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. He knew I wasn't playing then, and he knew my claw-like nails were sharp enough to cut skin. He whipped his hand from my lap, checking his wrist for any tell-tale signs he'd definitely gone too far. I rolled my eyes at him, calling out, "Hey, Fatass! Check this out!" I stuck out my tongue, curling it up to touch the metal ball of my tongue piercing. Cartman turned, breaking his concentration, to see what Kyle and Stan were staring so hopefully at. "So?" he asked snarkily, glaring at me as the zombies overtook Kenny.

Kenny bit his knuckle, effectively muffling his laughter. "It means," he retorted, "She can do some _amazing_ things, if you catch my drift. She's damn flexible, too." I felt his large, warm hand on my waist, and I sneered sexily at him. Kenny semi-discretely moved his hand upwards, aiming for my chest. Cartman, slow to catch on as always, tilted his head ever so slightly. I watched as it dawned on him what Kenny meant, and he nearly screamed, "Dude! That's not something I wanna think about!"

"You gay?" Kyle asked, smirking evilly. Cartman's chubby fist balled up and he stuttered out, "No, damn you!" Leaning down so I was nearly laying across Stan's lap, I inquired, "So why don't you want to think about blowjobs and flexible girls?"

Wrapping one arm around Kenny and one around Stan, I asked, "Any of ya got some bud?" They all shook their heads—except for Kyle, who said, "Na, but I got some blunt wraps." Laughing, I pulled a twenty bag from my pocket, retorting, "Dude, what good would the blunt wrap be without the filling? Okay, fork it over!"

I cracked the wrap, quickly relieving it of its original guts before I fished Kenny's large slab of mirror from under the couch. Sure, there was probably still some coke on it, but I needed to break up the bud. I roll a man's blunt, as my friends back in North Carolina used to call it—definitely not the toothpick blunts some of them rolled. Once rolled, I tucked the blunt behind my ear, flitting down the hall to find my lighter. I hummed "Boom Clap Sound" as I fished through my bag for that tiny canary yellow lighter, pushing wads of cash and mostly clean clothes around. As I pocketed the lighter, I murmured, "_I'm here to party on and get my Marley on, 'cause we burnin' like Rastafarians."_ Honestly, it's no wonder that's my favorite part. It's not _actually_ the Kottonmouth Kings—it's Chris Webby—but it's part of my philosophy of life. You know, party, smoke, just live.

"Yo! Ready to spark up?" I called, cartwheeling down the hall, strawberry-flavored blunt sticking out of my mouth. Butters was the only one who didn't cheer like the potheads we are. "I-I don't know if I should..." he said, quivering slightly. Cartman opened his mouth, but I beat him to dealing with Butters by saying, "Aw, Butters. You don't gotta smoke with us. You can just get a contact high."

"Wanna call Craig? He'll be up for smokin' with us. Plus, he'll probably bring more weed," Kyle said, trying to make up for not having any on him. I shrugged, tugging my way-out-of-date cell from my pocket and dialing Craig. Sometimes I think the guy can teleport, because it seemed like seconds before he was pulling into Kenny's yard.

Smirking as he opened the door, he said in his freakishly monotone voice, "I'm here, loves. We can get burning." I snorted, lighting the blunt. By the time the blunt had gone around three times, we were all laughing at Butters, who was giggling at every little thing and he was only buzzing. The kid was never around when we were smoking, so this shit was all brand new to him. Cartman munched happily away at the cheese poofs—until Butters got munchy.

I've no idea how, but Butters—skirts and all—wrestled the bag of cheese poofs away from Cartman without crushing himself or the bag. I giggled until I fell off the couch, right onto Craig. My whore side must've gotten to me, because I snaked my hands around his neck, letting myself hover closer to him until his eyes met mine. They weren't the clear, sky blue of Kenny's, or the dark blue of Stan's. They were more of a slate blue, cold and distant. "Craig, do you _always_ sound so emotionless?" I asked, my inflection on _always_ telling him exactly what I meant. His hands eased over my hips, pulling me onto his lap. I let his lips trail along my jaw before he answered, "Want to find out?"

I felt eyes on me. Not Kenny's, which worried me, but Cartman's, Kyle's, and Stan's. Butters was still crunching on his prize. My own eyes drifted up to Kenny—he was sitting here, staring straight ahead, hands clenched. Craig and Kenny had a rivalry of sorts. Each wanted to be the best badass in South Park. I reached out to touch his leg. He glanced at me and, seeing the question in my eyes, nodded nonchalantly. I tugged Kenny's shirt off, putting it in his lap as I whispered, "I'm sorry." He looked at me, his own questions racing over his expression.

Grabbing Craig's hand, I towed him out of the trailer and to his car. He wrapped his arms around the small of my back, kissing me furiously as he pushed me into his backseat. My hands worked quickly, unzipping his pants. I trailed kisses down his neck, gently dragging my claws down his now-bare chest. He moaned, thrusting against me as I let my hands explore his body.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I know, I know, this is really late. But it's here now!**

"That's just freakish, you know," I sneered, opening the door with Craig close behind. He cocked one dark brown and calmly asked, "What is?" I stared at him, unsure if he was really clueless or if he was messing with me. "Uh, the monotone thing," I replied, turning to the room—and nearly running smack into Butters.

The blonde sniffled, looking into the bag of cheesy poofs. "They're _all_ gone…" He sniffed again, looking more like a little kid than an eighteen year old. "Dude, there's more in the kitchen," I said, watching his face light up like I'd just told him it was Christmas Day. He turned tail and dashed into the kitchen. I flopped onto the couch, propping my head on Kenny's leg and throwing my own legs over Stan and Kyle's. Craig leaned against the couch, his head tipped back and those slate blue eyes closed. I couldn't tell if he was asleep or not, so I reached out to poke him just as Butters stumbled back into the room clinging to several bags of cheesy poofs and a bottle of Jack.

"Where the fuck'd you get that from?!" Kenny cried out, nearly knocking me off the couch. Butters mumbled incomprehensively, and Cartman yelled, "Big Gay Butters says he found it behind the damn cheesy poofs. Hey, Craig, wanna play Zombies?" Craig's thin hand lifted just enough for the chubbier teen to see he was being flipped off. Kenny's brow furrowed, and he said, "Fatass don't call Butters 'Big Gay Butters'. Butters, you c'mere and gimme that bottle." The other blonde hurried to do as he was told as Cartman grumbled to himself.

A tiny baggie landed in my lap. "Check these out," Craig said, poking the bag. "Oxy." I felt my eyes grow round as I examined the round white pills. Oxycontin, a painkiller—and a fun as fuck recreational drug. I popped a couple before passing the bag to Stan. Watching as he swallowed just one—he was a real lightweight with pills, and I knew he'd never done Oxy before, I wondered how he'd act. I've seen him try cocaine before—just once, and he got so fucked up he couldn't remember anything. Let's just say he should be happy he can't remember anything.

My world spun just a bit as I sat up so Kenny could get the glass pane. He crushes his Oxy up; he says it gets him higher faster by snorting. I felt everything shift out of focus, and everything slowly faded out.

When I came to again, Kenny was cold. My head was in Craig's lap, Cartman was passed out by the bag of cheesy poofs, and Butters was sipping away at the Jack—Stan and Kyle…where were they? Wait…Kenny. Cold? Shit, did he really OD on Oxy? I checked for a pulse, for breathing, for anything—there was nothing. I've never blacked out from Oxy. "Kyle? Stan?" I called, stumbling down the hallway to Kenny's bedroom. Nothing. The bathroom? Nope. The kitchen? There they were, cuddled up together, out cold as well.

I shook Kyle's shoulder gently, saying, "Kyle? Dude, what happened last night?" His brilliant green eyes opened and he answered groggily, "Hm? Oh…I…well, we were only there for a little bit after Kenny snorted all those pills. Look, if he's OD'd again, just put him in the bed."

"Good morning," Stan murmured, stroking Kyle's cheek. "Oh, hey, Ali… Kenny OD?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Just put him in his bed."

"Why's Butters drinking the Jack through a straw?"

"Oh…That. Yeah, he was afraid he was gonna spill it on himself. So I found him a straw. Then things just kind of…well, we were fucked up and things just kind of went from there. I don't mind if you don't, Stan," Kyle spilled out, looking at Stan, who shrugged and threw an arm around him.

I blinked, and everything seemed to really click. "Dude…you're gay?" I asked Kyle, trying to remember if he ever gave that impression before. Nope, sure didn't. Kyle nodded slightly, before murmuring, "Well…kinda. I'm not _totally_ gay." His eyes trailed down to my chest, which was—oddly enough—not covered with a shirt anymore. His brow furrowed just a bit, and those brilliantly green eyes snapped up to my mouth.

"What the fuck happened to your lip?"

"What?"

"Your lip…it's bleeding."

I jolted to the mirrored front of Kenny's liquor cabinet. Two tiny studs sat just under my bottom lip, between the middle and corner of each side. "Huh," I muttered. I turned back to the boys and said, "Anyone remember what happened last night? Other than Kenny OD'ing and finding butters a straw." They shook their heads. "Okay, new question. What the fuck did we take? There's no fucking way that was Oxy." Kyle and Stan stared blankly at me. I rolled my eyes and went to drag Kenny to his bed.

Craig stared at me as I stumbled over to Kenny. I glared at him and hissed, "Dude, what the fuck was that shit? That was _not_ Oxy." He pulled himself to his feet and moved to help me carry Kenny. "Look," he began, his face for once showing emotion. "I've got no clue what that was. Tweek and Token swore up and down it was Oxy, so either they're fucking me over, or they're getting fucked over. Sorry about your lips, by the way." My tongue toyed with the back of the snakebite studs, which were apparently a pair of plain earrings. "So…you know what happened?" He nodded, brown-black hair bounding slightly.

"Uh, yeah. Kinda. Kenny snorted the hell out of those pills, Butters started drinking the Jack, Cartman pretty much just passed out. How long have you had that piercing gun, anyways?"

"The…piercing gun?"

"Yeah. You pulled one out and we pierced your lip. Stan and Kyle went to go find food in the kitchen and…never came back."

"Oh, they're still in the kitchen. Turns out they're gay for each other."

"What?!"

"Welcome to South Park."

I hoisted Kenny onto his bed and fell in beside him. I barely felt Craig's presence leave the room before my eyes fluttered shut, once again plunging me into blackness.


End file.
